Stalker
by MissChamberlayne
Summary: A junior in college, Isabella Swan has an unlikely childhood friend show up at her door, consequently spawning the passionate romance she'd always dreamt of. But are the people from our past to be trusted? AU. OoC.


All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Chapter 1 - _Isabella_

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I had known him since I was a little girl.

Grew up playing house with him in our back garden, making mud pies and arguing over who could ride their bike the fastest down the only road of our secluded neighborhood in the sleepy town of Forks, Washington. He was a year older than I was; I watched his every move like a hawk – imitating him like the brother I never had and wished he were. I loved him, but as neighborhood friends often do, we grew apart. As time passed and we went our separate ways in high school, I knew I still desired him and in more than a brotherly way – his occasional side glances and sly smiles practically gave me heart murmurs.

He knew he was handsome – his ego was palpable. Tall, lean, muscular, strong facial features and a knock out smile. Hazel green eyes and a sloppy auburn mane. Despite all of the girls he'd plow through, I always felt his sidelong glances and secretive smiles meant I'd held a special place in his heart all those years. Maybe all of that is why when he'd shown up at my apartment door to say hello I let him in without a second thought. Hell, I had more than let him in – I invited him with fervor. It was like my dormant heart had a reason to beat, no, flutter again.

He drew me in close at the door, hugging me and nuzzling my cheek. His proximity startled me; his hand snaked its way to the small of my back while his breath sent goose bumps crawling across my skin. "Did you miss me, Isabella?" His breath was cool, sending an unwelcome spasm down my backside. I cringed away involuntarily.

The way he addressed me using my full name – as opposed to Bella – sounded off and, frankly, sinister. It was normal for him to call me Isabella, though, I reminded myself – never recalling him using anything but my full name when we were children. I closed my eyes, turning my face into his neck. He'd never touched me quite so intimately, so I wasn't opposed to his use of my full name.

"No," I smiled, feeling mischievous. It had been years since I'd seen him. "How did you find me?" I asked as I drew away to let him in.

"I transferred," he said, reaching for a strand of my hair. He tucked it behind my ear. I rolled my eyes at the cheese. He grinned at that, and it felt like we had swung back into the ways of our playful banter. "Your Mom let me know when I was back home for awhile and gave me your address."

"Why did you transfer?" I asked as I made my way to the sink for a pitcher of water. Walking back out of the attached bathroom, I noticed he'd already made himself at home and was sprawled across my bed, toying with my tattered and frayed baby blanket.

"You still have this?" He kicked off his shoes as he spoke, studying the pink and blue teddy bears on the blanket's print.

Blushing, I took it from his hands and threw it in my closet hamper. "Tea or coffee?"

"No," he said, grabbing my oversized flannel by the backside, drawing me near. He turned me around by my arms. Startled, I set the teal mug in my hand on the bed next to him and leaned in as if he were drawing me close to say something important. "I transferred to be closer to home," he said, studying my eyes intensely. His eyes were darker than I'd remembered. Deep brown, nearly black. They burned into mine. "And don't pretend I didn't make you blush." He grinned from ear to ear, embarrassing me yet again.

I rolled my eyes and tugged my arms out of his grip. He jumped up and, perched on the edge of my bed, collected me in his arms and legs as I stood in front of the bed. I was so shocked that a giggle rippled through my chest and out of my mouth before I could feel timid, or, worse, what I felt brewing in the pit of my stomach but felt I should repress - the instinctual flight reaction caused by fear.

"How I've missed your giggles," he murmured into the chest of my flannel.

I didn't know what was happening. He'd never been so friendly or blatant about his potential feelings for me. "You're acting strange," I said before I could think about it.

"I wanted to see you because I knew you were on campus... and I grew bored of our little song and dance in high school – I'd smile, you'd blush – then we'd go our separate ways. It can't be like that this time around, better yet, I won't let it. It will happen this time."

My heart about exploded in my chest. _I knew it. I knew I wasn't crazy. I knew he'd always liked me or at the very least wanted me._

"What do you mean 'it's going to happen'?" My thoughts immediately trailed to the many women he'd loved and left.

He drew back, looking at me once more. He had that look he'd get while taking an exam in high school. "Us?"

"You don't mean—?"

"Us," he said again, this time more confidently. "If you want." He looked uncertain, guarded.

Like negotiating a contract, I felt I might have to clarify my many uncertainties. "What about your habit of loving and leaving women?" As soon as I'd said it, I felt it was a bit harsh.

"You're different," he said quickly, looking taken aback. He'd obviously forgotten how straight forward I could be. "Look," he said, gaining his composure once more, "I can't guarantee it will work out, but I've always wanted to call you mine. Can't we give it a try?"

I swallowed heavily. "I don't know… I haven't seen you in years… and we've probably changed too much to say we really know one another – "

He gripped my arms firmly and sat me on his knee on the edge of the bed. "Kiss me," he demanded quietly, pulling my chin in softly.

Nervously, I slid my hand to his forearms, gripping to keep stable. Tentatively, his lips settled into mine, feeling their expert way. I molded myself to his every move. Gradually, his grip on my own arms became rough – I could feel him growing, pressing into my thigh. I broke away from his lips urgently – shocked at his tenacity and surprised at my own lustful reaction. My bottom half felt like it was blooming with want, all the way up to my naval.

He practically growled in my ear, shedding his green jacket, pulling me onto the bed. If there was any good way to lose my virginity, this would have to be it.

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OK, there you have it - chapter 1, 'Isabella.' Please tell me what you think so far, I'm anxious to know! Boy do I have a plan for this story.


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